


Winter Never Felt So Warm (Your Absence Makes Me Shiver)

by DeathMeetsLife



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, F/M, Loki is a holiday alcoholic, Mama Frigga just wants her boys to be happy, Mischief and Mistletoe 2014, Thor is a Christmas Cupid, but lets be honest who isnt, holiday au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathMeetsLife/pseuds/DeathMeetsLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki looked down and immediately recognized her Danish half-smashed into his Armani suit jacket. He merely turned his face to the ceiling and silently pleaded to whatever deity was in charge of dry cleaning that the cream was not mashed too hard into the fibers.<br/>-<br/>Or, the holiday corporate AU where a chance meeting in a coffee house leads to more chance meetings and more chance meetings until Loki is tired of leaving such things to chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Never Felt So Warm (Your Absence Makes Me Shiver)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlashySyren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashySyren/gifts).



> Happy Holidays! Hope that this doesn't disappoint... this has actually ended up being the longest oneshot I've ever written. Enjoy!

“One large non-fat white espresso with cocoa powder on top, no whip!” the barista called, the heaviness in his voice belying the need for some of the wakefulness a coffee of his own would provide.

Loki looked up from his phone and stepped forwards to claim his order. He nodded his thanks to the half-asleep teenager and took a sip of his sweet morning vice. He sighed happily.

He moved toward the door, trying to avoid the other under-caffeinated professionals and students crowding the small shop. He had almost made it to sweet freedom when he felt someone push him from behind, causing him to trip gracelessly into a cluster of armchairs by the window with an undignified yelp of surprise. A woman leaped up from her seat with a shocked shout and attempted – in vain – to save the papers that Loki assumed had been sitting on her lap. Now, they were soaked through with non-fat white espresso. He glared back at the churning crowd at his back, but the perpetrator of the accident was lost in the bustle. He turned back to apologize to the woman, but paused briefly to appreciate the sight before him.

The woman, clearly a professional in her designer dress and blazer, frantically waved the messed papers in one hand and held a half-eaten Danish pastry in the other – he assumed she had forgotten about the breakfast item before she paused briefly in her frenzied attempt of drying the papers to take a bite of it, muttering murderously under her breath the whole time.

“I’m so sorry,” Loki said, placing his travel cup onto the coffee table before pulling some napkins from the metal dispenser. “Someone jostled me from behind. Did you get burned?” He asked partly out of concern for the woman and partly out of concern for his bank account. He really did not want to deal with a lawsuit at the moment. He presented the napkins to the woman, who blinked at him as though she had forgotten that he was present. Then she smiled, and shook her head, and Loki believed that the sun must have finally come out from behind the snow clouds outside because the whole café seemed to brighten, lighting her bright hazel eyes.

“No, no; no boiling coffee on me, at least not today, thank god. Though I’m starting to think that second degree burns would be preferable to sorting through this mess.” She tossed some of the papers onto the table, and they landed with a wet smack. She paused. “And telling my boss that the grant proposal we’ve spent all week on has been ruined. I guess that’s what I get for taking them out of the office to ‘take initiative.’”

“Surely there’s another copy backed up somewhere?” Loki prompted, trying to lighten the stormy look that had taken over her face. She sighed.

“From yesterday? Of course. But I spent all night making corrections to it. Now,” she held up a sopping sheet of paper, barely legible, “my notes have smeared to the point where I think this one says, ‘mustard in Clive’s underwear.’” She screwed up her lips. “I don’t think I even know a Clive,” she muttered.

“I’m truly sorry,” Loki mournfully replied. He knew what it was like to lose so much time and effort.

“Why?” the woman retorted. When Loki looked up, he noticed a sparkle of his mischief in her eyes. “Is your name Clive? I’m sure they must have mustard around here somewhere.”

He comment startled a laugh out of him, however, before he could respond, a couple, completely unaware of their surroundings, pushed open the door of the shop and walked straight into the back of the woman’s chair, pitching her forward into Loki’s chest. He acted quickly to catch her by the shoulders and sent a nasty glare at the twenty-somethings. “Hey! Pay attention to the people around you!” They merely sneered in his general direction before heading to the back of the line. He looked down at the woman in his arms. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good, just–” she stopped as she pulled away, staring at something on his chest. “Shit. Sorry, Clive, guess we’re even now.”

Loki looked down and immediately recognized her Danish half-smashed into his Armani suit jacket. He merely turned his face to the ceiling and silently pleaded to whatever deity was in charge of dry cleaning that the cream was not mashed too hard into the fibers. He made a mental note to ask Dalton to run it to the cleaners at lunch. “It’s alright, I have another at the office. Speaking of which, I am extremely late. If you would excuse me, ma’am–”

“Oh, not at all.” She shook her head, drawing Loki’s eyes to the raven waves tied up behind her. “Take care, Clive!” she winked and shuffled up her ruined papers before darting out the door.

Loki took a deep breath, pretended that he did not feel like he had just been struck by a freight train, and followed suit.

* * *

The knock at his office door was not so much a _knock_ as it was a loud hammering. Loki did not need to look up from his reports to know that his brother was lounging in this open doorway.

“Yes, Thor? What brings you to the twenty-third today?”

“When was the last time that you looked at a clock? Surely not since you sat yourself down this morning,” Thor plopped himself into one of the chairs in front of Loki’s desk and proceeded to entertain himself with tossing around the stress-ball Loki kept on the corner.

“Unlike you, my dear older brother, I prefer not to procrastinate, especially when I got a late start, already.”

“Well, I’d say that you more than made up for the lost time, considering that the rest of the building emptied out about an hour ago.” That comment made Loki look up and blink in surprise. Thor merely smirked that lazy, teasing smirk of his that he seemed to have perfected when they were children and continued. “I’m fairly certain that Dalton has been waiting to be released from his duties for at least thirty minutes.”

Loki removed his glasses and glanced at the clock on his phone. 7:52 glared back at him. He groaned, laying his head in his hands.

“Dalton,” he called out softly, know his personal assistant would hear him.

A shock of red hair appeared through the doorframe. “Sir?”

“I apologize, I’ve kept you longer than usual. Be sure to log your overtime with Beatrice downstairs.”

“It’s alright! I didn’t mind. Does that mean…?”

“Yes, you are dismissed for the evening.”

“Thank you, sir! I’ll pick your suit up first thing in the morning.”

“Drive safe, Dalton.”

“Yes, sir, goodnight. You, as well, Mr. Odinson.” Thor nodded at the young man, who disappeared from the doorway once more. Once his footsteps echoed down the hall, Thor turned back to his brother.

“If he calls me ‘Mr. Odinson,’ what does he call you?” he wondered curiously. Loki picked his head up from his hands and thinned his lips as he thought.

“You know,” he began, looking up at Thor, “that boy has been working for me for coming up on five years, now, and I don’t think that I’ve ever heard him refer to me in any way other than ‘sir.’”

Thor’s booming laughter filled the office, and Loki gave a tired smile in reply.

“What does he call Father, then?”

“‘President Odinson,’ I believe.”

“President Odinson, Mr. Odinson, and Sir. Well, at least he has a way of keeping us straight, then.” Thor propped his feet up on the desk. Loki shoved them back off with a huff. “Come on, pack up. You know what tonight is, and Mother’s taken it upon herself – again – to dress us.”

The younger Odinson brother chuckled but began the process of getting ready to leave nevertheless. “When do you think she’ll realized that we are both fully grown men?”

Thor shrugged. “Probably by summer, when she gets a grandchild to coddle, instead.”

Loki froze. “You mean…?” Thor beamed with joy, the smile taking over his whole face. Loki moved around the desk and embraced his brother. “Congratulations. I know you and Jane have been trying for a while. So, by summer I’ll have a little Jane to spoil, then?”

Thor clapped him on the back, then pulled away, squeezing his shoulder. “Or a tiny Thor!”

Loki skewed up his face in exaggeration. “I’d rather not have to relive you as a child, Thor. Dealing with that once was enough, thanks.”

His brother laughed again, through his meaty arm over Loki’s shoulders and pulling him toward the door. “Oh, you don’t mean that!”

“Mmhmm,” the younger hummed, grabbing his overcoat as he was dragged out of his office. “I do hope that Mother hasn’t given us matching outfits, again.”

* * *

“Mother, we are adults, you don’t need to have us matching like toddlers.”

“Or dancing monkeys,” Loki added quietly next to his brother.

“Nonsense. The two of you aren’t matching. You are coordinating.” Frigga kissed them both on their cheeks and proceeded to smooth Loki’s lapels against his chest. “This party only comes once a year. Let me have this.”

The brothers looked at each other. “Yes, Mother,” they intoned. She smiled gently, then smacked their heads.

“Don’t sass me, boys.”

Thor grumbled and moved away to knot his necktie, but Loki gave his mother and apologetic grin. “Do you have pocket squares for us?” Frigga quirked her mouth and presented her youngest with a small box. “Thank you, Mother,” he replied warmly.

She cupped his cheek fondly. “It’s decided, you’re my favorite, today.”

“Hey!” came the indignant shout from the bathroom.

“And why,” she raised her voice to be heard, “would I make you my favorite when you have neglected to inform me that I will soon be a grandmother?”

Thor stuck his head around the corner. “How did you–?”

“Darling, you must have learned by now that a mother knows everything her children attempt to keep from her,” she waved off Thor’s attempts at excused and sat herself at her vanity. “You can be my favorite tomorrow as long as you bring Jane and have brunch with me in the morning. And I expect sonograms.”

Thor entered the room and dragged Frigga off of her stool and into a hug. “Of course, Mother.”

“Good, now take your pocket square.” She thrust the package into his hands and sent him back to the bathroom.

Loki buttoned his vest over his shirt and shook his head. “Is Father ‘coordinating’ as well?” he smirked.

Frigga hummed discontentedly. “Your father will not be joining us this evening. He conveniently scheduled an international conference call during the party.”

Loki privately thought that his father was a genius for doing so, but told his mother, “That’s too bad. Shall I escort you, then?”

Frigga smiled gratefully and loops his gold-on-green quatrefoil tie about his neck, popping the collar of his shirt as she did so. “I shall be the envy of every woman there, I’m sure,” she teased. Tucking the completed tie into his vest, she _tsked_ her dismay at her son’s moussed-back hair. “You have such lovely curls, Loki. I don’t know why you insist on smoothing them back like, like… some Italian Mafioso or something.”  

Loki rolled his eyes and shrugged into his jacket. “I promise to leave it be for the New Year’s party. Then everyone can witness the bird nest on top on my head.”

“Please do, it is such a lovely bird nest,” she smiled. “Where’s that box I gave you?” Loki held it up, and she flicked off the top to pull out the gold silk pocket square from inside. “Now, just because you’ll be my escort tonight doesn’t mean that you can’t talk to other young ladies.”

He groaned and looked at the ceiling. “No, Mother.”

“I’m just saying, if you happened to meet someone and hit it off, feel free to explore that.”

“For the last time, Mother, I’m not interested in getting involved with someone right now.”

“Mmhmm. Of course, dear. There,” she gently tucked the silk into his front jacket pocket.

“I’m serious, Mother.”

“Yes, yes.” She kissed his cheek and moved to the bathroom. “Thor, how’s it coming along?”

“Don’t try and set me up with anyone! I’m focusing on the acquisition proposal!” he raised his voice to be heard, though he knew his mother was not really listening to his protests.

“You and I both know how proficient you are at multitasking, Loki.”

“Love isn’t everything!” he called out, shrugging on his wool overcoat. “I’ll meet you at the party!”

“Neither is work! Don’t think this conversation is over!”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbled under his breath as he stepped out the front door of his family home. He checked his watch; he did not have enough time before the event to get back across town to his condo, but maybe there was enough to grab a hot coffee on the way to the party. He thought back to that morning’s mishaps and looked down at his suit.

Coffee might be tempting the fates.

His phone beeped in his pocket, reporting the state of Frost International Consulting at the close of the market. He grinned; any lower, and Laufey would be forced to consider selling. A source had told him that the board was already putting pressure on him, and that the only options for FIC’s survival was either a buy out or a takeover from the inside, and something told Loki that Laufey would prefer to retain his position as head of his company.

Loki knew that if he were in Laufey’s position, he would.

With an extra spring in his step, he got to his car and pulled out of the driveway.

Maybe that night would not be as painful as he had expected it to be.

* * *

He was wrong. It was every bit as painful as he had anticipated, and then some. Loki nursed his flute of champagne in the only moment of silence he had been able to claim all night, watching the employees and high-end clientele of Odinson Oil and all of its many diversified branches milling about in the large lobby of the company’s headquarters.

After escorting Frigga into the party, Loki had waited next to his brother as their mother made a welcoming and gracious speech on behalf of the family, raised a toast to the employees, and officially opened the event. Then, she proceeded to take her youngest by the arm and introduce him to their newest investors and partners. Oh, and their eligible daughters, as well.

He sighed and sipped the drink in his hand. He knew why his mother was so determined to find his a match. Once Thor had met his wife Jane, he had changed from an immature, brutish frat boy to the pride of the Odinson family seemingly overnight. When their mother had seen his drastic turnabout, she had made it her personal mission to find that sort of happiness for the younger brother. Loki maintained that he was happiest when left to his work and to Ivan, the longhaired rescue kitten he had pulled out of a dumpster on 23rd Street last month.

After being shuttled around between bachelorettes for the better part of two hours, he has excused himself on the premise of freshening up and quickly found himself alcohol and a dark corner in which to hide from his mother.

He just about jumped out of his skin when a hand clapped his shoulder, but relaxed when Thor chuckled. “Come, Loki, let’s find a better hiding place to secret you away to.” The brothers skirted the dance floor, allowing the movement around them disguise their escape.

Loki breathed a sigh of relief, and he allowed himself to be led toward the opposite end of the lobby. “Where is my lovely sister-in-law? Surely she hasn’t abandoned you, yet.”

Thor laughed and nodded in the direction of the center fountain, where his brother could spy Jane wrapped in Frigga’s arms. “She’s running interference for our operation. She suggested the job, herself.”

Loki felt a genuine grin stretch his lips for the first time that night. “Is it too late to elope with your wife? You wouldn’t mind too much, would you?” The blond shook his head in amusement and pushed his brother forward, maybe a little harder than was truly necessary. Loki allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk and waved when he noticed some friends who work in Thor’s department. The oil and gas bunch were always a bit too boisterous for Loki to handle on a day-to-day basis, but he otherwise enjoyed their company in small amounts.

“I see our brave leader was successful in his rescue attempt! Having a good time, Loki?” a blond in a sharp blue suit questioned in jest.

Huffing, Loki shook his proffered hand. “I believe you just answered your own question there, Fandral. And why weren’t you so courageous?”

“And face Frigga’s wrath? Not a chance, sir. I am already an accessory to the deed after the fact, and that is already more responsibility than I am comfortable with. Volstagg, here, just wanted to defend his place next to the hors d’oeuvres plates.”

The man in question did not even pretend to look ashamed. “They have these little prosciutto-wrapped quailed with cheese and pepper stuffing.” He popped another into his mouth with a shrug of his shoulders, then hummed happily. “I just can’t get enough of them.”

Loki looked around, but he could not find the third member of their little crew. “And Hogun? Where’s that paramount of joy?”

“Declined to come.” Thor chuckled at his brother’s arched eyebrow. “I know, exactly none of us were surprised, either. But our new grant writer should be here somewhere… she transferred from the West Coast office just a few weeks ago, and she – Ah! There she is! Sif!” Thor waved at someone in the swirling masses Loki took the opportunity to grab another champagne flute from a passing tray, then cast a considering eye on the crab puffs heading in their direction. He was just about to reach for one when Fandral spun him around again.

“Loki, this is Sif Gunn, she works in grants and is a good hand at translating the garbage that comes out of legal. She can also drink every one of these poor bastards under the table,” Thor introduced. Loki glanced briefly from his brother to the woman before doing a double-take. The woman seemed to be undergoing a similar sense of déjà vu before snapping her fingers and pointing at him in recognition.

“Clive!” Loki looked over the woman – Sif, he reminded himself, she has a name, now – and tried to reconcile the sequin-draped beauty before him with the harried woman from just that morning. If he was completely honest with himself – which he so rarely was – connecting the two was not that hard; between the piercing hazel eyes and the smile that had captivated him so quickly in the coffee shop, he was slightly ashamed that he has not made the connection earlier.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and offered her a hand. “Loki, actually.” Fandral threw a skeevy look his way, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “We… ran into each other this morning,” he explained to the others, then realized that his phrasing did not help clarify the situation any. “At _Ashton’s_. The café on Main and 15 th.”

“Sure you did,” Fandral slapped his back hard enough to push him forward. Loki made a conscious effort to keep his drink in his glass; he did not need for every encounter with Sif to involve soaking her with whatever he was currently sipping on.

Sif shot a frightening glare at her colleague. “Don’t be crude, Fandral.” He relented, holding his hands up in surrender.

“My apologies. I’ll leave you crazy kids to get acquainted. Volstagg? I believe they set out devilled eggs down the table, next to those _gorgeous_ ginger twins, do you see them?” He dragged the giant of a man away, leaving the Odinson brothers with Sif.

Thor jerked his head at their retreating backs, “They’re still getting used to the fact that Sif broke into our ‘men’s club.’”

“A fact I am quite proud of. To their credit, they’re coming around much faster than the guys in my old offices,” Sif added with a smirk.

Loki returned the expression before addressing his brother. “Does your lovely Jane know that you have been so thoroughly charmed by your new co-worker?”

Thor, amused by his brother’s ribbing, grinned. “Jane almost enjoys Sif’s company more than my own! I should be the one most worried at being displaced. And, speaking of my lady, it seems at through she’s finally escaped Mother’s clutches. If your two would excuse me,” he bowed out of the conversation and began to make his way to his petite wife through the crowd. Loki met Jane’s gaze, and she threw a look that clearly translated as _you owe me, Odinson_. He mouthed a “thank you,” and her eyes softened, before she turned her attention fully to her husband with a tired smile.

“I never expected to run into you again, especially not like this.” Loki turned to the woman next to him.

“Likewise. It’s a wonder that we haven’t met before this.”

Sif shrugged, causing the low lights to glitter off her dress. “Big company, big building. The different floors don’t really socialize.”

He smirked. “Perhaps.” He looked around, downed his glass, and snatched two more off of a distracted waiter. “Shall we?” He nodded toward the courtyard.

Sif took one of the flutes and widened her eyes in mock desperation. “ _Please_. Lead on.”

The chill outside was refreshing after the stifling, over-loud lobby. Sif leaned against a planter and huffed out a relieved sigh, watching the fog of her breath dissipate in the air. “ _Much_ better. You realize don’t realize how deafening it is in there until you escape it.”

Loki thought back to his mother, somewhere in the party. Having the extra set of door between them gave him a sense of relief. He immediately felt guilty for being relieved, but he did not let himself get hung up about it. He raised his glass to Sif, who quirked an eyebrow at his actions. “To running away.”

She snorted in a very unladylike fashion before clinking their flutes together. “Cheers.”

They both took sips, eyes locking over the rims of their glasses. They sat in silence for a bit, cooling in the evening air. When Sif shivered slightly, Loki offered his suit jacket. She declined. “My dad always told me that a little cold every once in a while builds character, as long as it doesn’t result in frostbite,” she winked. “I’m just relishing the temperature before we go back into that,” she waved vaguely toward the doors, “sauna.”

“Suit yourself,” Loki replied. He took a sip of his champagne, enjoying the bubbles on his tongue. Sif appraised him quietly, and she took a sip of her own.

“Most men would offer twice.”

“You’d only refuse again, and it would be a waste of breath.”

Sif smiled then, unguardedly, as if he had passed a test, and she stood, moving closer to him. They locked eyes again, and Loki could feel a warmth travel through his bones. “So,” she began, running a hand distractedly through her hair, “Thor tells me you work in acquisitions. Antiquities or break room snacks?” she teased with a sip from her glass. He smirked.

“Companies.”

“Expanding your father’s empire?”

“It won’t always be his,” he replied easily.

Something glinted in her eyes, something Loki recognized as excitement. “Ambitious of you.”

“Patient,” Loki corrected. “Old men retire, and my father, as frightening and powerful as he may be, is an old man. Besides that,” he chuckled, “my mother has been encouraging him to retire for years. If anyone can go toe-to-toe with Odin Odinson and come out the victor, it is that woman,” he concluded proudly.

Sif laughed softly. “You know what they say about great men and women.”

“Absolute understatement.” He finally broke eye contact to look out at the courtyard, which had been spread liberally with Christmas lights for the festivities. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Don’t act so shocked. Surely you know that grant writing is beneath you.” He glanced back over to her with a grin, startling a laugh from her ruby red lips.

“Maybe I get my kicks from extracting the hard-earned taxpayer money from the government.”

Loki tilted his head to the side, studying the woman before him. “I can believe that that’s part of it, I’m sure.”

Sif pursed her lips, failing to disguise the smile that threatened to spread across her face. “Perhaps.”

Loki hummed and left it at that. He went to take another drink when he noticed his empty glass. “Oh dear.”

“What is it?”

He tipped his flute upside down to illustrate his predicament. “I seem to be out of liquefied Holiday Cheer.”

Sif let herself tip her head back to laugh at that. Loki smiled; he could admit to himself that he would like to hear the sound more.

As the night wore on, the pair remained safely secluded in the courtyard, only ducking inside a few time to replenish drinks or hors d’oeuvres. Loki discovered that yes, he did enjoy the crab puffs, especially when they made Sif moan with her first bite. She told him about her quick rise to obtaining a respected position in Odinson Oil’s central corporation from working fundraising events in their small non-profit sector only two years previous, and she bemoaned the male-dominated workforce in the oil and gas department. Loki let her in on a few secrets involving her coworkers – that, despite his playboy attitude, Fandral was a serial monogamist, and that grim Hogun spent Sunday evenings reading to kids at the children’s hospital – and thoroughly enjoyed the company of the brilliant, hardworking woman standing with him. When he asked after the papers destroyed that morning in the café, she groaned and detailed the lecture she had received from her supervisor for the better part of an hour, but she had been able to remember the majority of the notes she had made and had made up the work that had been lost by the end of lunch.

Loki had just launched into an explanation on the Hofferson merger when they were interrupted by a loud cough. The pair turned to Thor, who had opened the door to the party, which seemed to have come to an end during their conversation. Loki looked around his brother’s frame, but it seemed that the only ones left were the hosts themselves and the caterers cleaning up the event. “Time truly has a way of disappearing on me, today.”

“I’ll say,” Thor yawned, turning his head into his shoulder to muffle the noise. “It’s past three already. I’m more than grateful that we scheduled this thing on a Friday, because I don’t think Jane will be able to pull me out of bed until noon.” He jerked his head into the darkened lobby. “Mother is looking for you.”

“Yes, I suppose she would be,” Loki sighed. He turned to his conversation partner and company for the past – he glanced at his watch – four hours and smiled. “It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Gunn.”

Sif smirked and nodded, “See you around, Mr. Odinson.” She brushed past Thor in the doorway with a wave of her hand. “Night, Thor.”

“Sif.” He waited until she had gotten out of hearing range when he cast a warm look at his younger brother. “You two certainly got on well.”

“She’s a wonderful conversationalist,” Loki insisted, pushing his brother into the lobby as he followed. “It was easy to lose track of time.”

Thor studied his face before humming to himself and calling over his shoulder, “Goodnight, brother, Mother is waiting by the main doors.” Loki watched as he approached a small figure, Jane, he assumed, and headed out the main entrance himself. The youngest Odinson sighed and ran a hand over his hair when he spotted his mother’s silhouette against the glass windows.

Time to face the music.

* * *

For the next week, Loki seemed to catch glimpses of Sif Gunn everywhere. It was a trailing ponytail past the elevators one day, and her entrancing laughter echoing in the lobby the next. Even as he threw himself and his attention into FIC proposal, Loki could not help but think back to the holiday party every time his thoughts strayed. Whenever he saw his brother, Thor sent scrutinizing looks his way, but he waved off any and all of Loki’s inquiries into his strange behavior.

On Christmas Eve, Loki tapped his knuckles against the glass doors of the lobby, gaining the attention of the guard sitting behind the main desk. The stoic man on duty rose and dutifully unlocked the doors, stepping aside so that Loki could get out of the blowing snow outside.

“Jesus, it’s frigid out there.” Loki unwound the cashmere scarf that he had looped around his neck and covering his mouth. He greeting the man, who just so happened to be the head of security. “Afternoon, Heimdall. Sent everyone else home for the holiday?”

“No sense in anyone else coming in,” Heimdall stated plainly, locking the door once more before heading back to the security desk. “Only a few people came in today, and the company is closed, officially. I am more than sufficient staff for tonight.”

“Well,” Loki began. He was never sure where he stood with the dark, imposing man, “I appreciate you sacrificing your holiday to spend it here.”

Heimdall settled back into his seat and raised an eyebrow. “It’s for the good of the company.”

“Of course, just – never mind, I’ll be on the twenty-third.” Loki made his way to the elevator lobby. “Enjoy your quiet evening, Heimdall,” he called as he stepped through the waiting doors.

“I always do,” Loki heard faintly as the doors slid closed. He huffed and pressed the button for his department.

The afternoon and evening were nearly silent; Loki was the only one on his floor, maybe the only one on the surrounding floors. He could swear that he could have heard a pin drop in accounting and he would have heard it. Unsurprisingly, he got a lot of work out of the way. The Frost International Consulting proposal was still under review by the higher-ups (including his father, who he had yet to hear from on the matter), but there were many other small acquisitions and mergers that had to be pushed through before the end of the year. As the head of the department, he had to review all the smaller proposals that did not need to go any higher and put his stamp of approval on each and every one.

Around 6:30, his cell phone rang, the noise startling Loki out of the almost robotic working mode he had been in all evening. Not sparing a glance at the caller ID, he answered. “Hello?”

_“Loki!”_

“Good evening, Thor,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Can I help you with something?”

_“Knowing you, you’re at the office right now, am I right?”_

“Hmm,” Loki saved the documents on his computer absently. “Maybe.”

Thor laughed, and Loki could also hear some banging around of kitchen cutlery in the background. _“I left some binders up there that I need to go through before Friday. Could you grab them and take them to the dinner at Mother and Father’s tomorrow night?”_

“What’s in it for me?” Loki asked jokingly, already standing from his desk. A walk around the fortieth would be a good way to stretch his legs.

 _“What’s in it for – oh, wait a minute, yes, Jane?”_ Loki could hear his sister-in-law’s muffled tones before his brother returned to the line. _“Loki, are you still there?”_

“Of course, Thor.” Loki had made it to the elevators already, and he called for one and waited patiently.

_“Jane says that this will make you two even for her distracting Mother at the holiday party.”_

“In that case, how could I refuse? Where in your office are these binders, you forgetful knobhead?” He pressed the button for the fortieth.

_“Right on top of the filing cabinet. Oh! Got to go, Jane is trying to take over cooking dinner, see you tomorrow.”_

“Thor–” the dial tone sounded back at him, and Loki just shook his head. “That woman could burn water,” he muttered to himself. He was fairly certain that Fruit Loops were the extent of Jane’s culinary talents; as brilliant as she was when it came to theoretical astrophysics, she was absolutely hopeless in front of a stove. This suited Thor just fine, though – his older brother enjoyed few things more than whipping up a masterpiece in the kitchen. The elevator doors slid open on the fortieth, and Loki stepped out into the oil and gas department.

The soothing color schemes of the other floors in the building were interrupted by the tangerine and burgundy palette of the fortieth. Thor always claimed that it kept the employees energized, but Loki believed that they were merely startled awake every time they saw the bright orange accent walls. The chrome finishes on the reception desks, cubicles, and hardware only continued the high-energy vibe of the floor.

Loki picked his way down the hall to his brother’s office, absently peeking into the glass-walled conference rooms and offices on his way down. He paused when he spied movement in one of the rooms he had passed, and he backpedaled when he realized that he recognized the woman bent over the table. Sure enough, when he looked again, she was still there, pouring over documents spread over the entirety of the conference table. Her blazer had been tossed to the side across one of the acrylic chairs, and she had pushed her dress’ sleeves past her elbows. Loki knew the look of frustration on her features – it was one he himself wore quite often when dealing with the incompetence of others – and knew an overworked professional when he saw one.

His knock on the open doorframe echoed in the room, and she looked up in surprise. “Overtime?”

“No,” she breathed out, straightening up with a groan, “fixing my coworker’s mistakes. They misfiled the federal grants with the international agreements that go out to the Saudi groups, and I have to sort it out before ten so that I can send it out to the Arabs before they start work tomorrow.” She rubbed at her temples. “I wouldn’t have even noticed if I hadn’t had to double-check the barrel count for the international offices. I could only imagine what would have happened if this kind of information had gone to the wrong people.”

“Well then, I’m sure your supervisor will be happy that you caught their idiocy before company details were leaked.” Loki looked over the spread before him, thumbing his way through the documents. “So you are just trying to separate the two?”

“It wouldn’t take so long,” Sif admitted, “if they hadn’t been misfiling them for the past month. So, now, everything is all jumbled together, and I’m starting to see these words floating off of the page.”

Loki hummed, flicking through the pages in his hands, and turned to her. “If the issue is something as simple as organizing, I’m sure I could be of service.”

Sif looked up, wide eyed, and began to protest, “I didn’t mean to take you away from your work–”

“Nonsense, I needed a break from it, anyway.” He removed his shirt jacket as well, placing it on the chair next to hers, and rolled up his cuffs. “Where do we start?” She smiled gratefully and pushed a stack of papers in his direction. “Goody.” Sif laughed, and she told him the key words to look for to distinguish the two projects. The two set to work, trading sly remarks and grievances about idiotic colleagues and projects. They eventually sorted out all of the right documents, sent them out to the correct offices, and collapsed into their respective chairs.

Sif checked her watch, then sighed with relief. “We made the deadline. Fifteen minutes left.” She leaned her head back, then turned to look at the man next to her. “Truly, thank you. I wouldn’t have made it, otherwise.”

He waved off her gratitude with a grin. “I always harass my brother about his procrastination, but I am just as bad. Just don’t tell him that, and we’ll call it even.”

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow. “And just what are you putting off?”

Loki groaned and covered his face with his hand. “Aqazeciapuble.”

“I really don’t think that was English.”

“Sorry,” he moved his hand to his forehead. “Acquisition approvals. I am sorting through the small businesses that will be folded under Odinson Oil’s wing in come New Year’s Day. Half of it is trash, but a few of them have promise.” His phone rang out in a shrill alarm, nearly causing him to fall out of his chair. The emergency alert scrolled across his screen.

**_Snowfall exceeding seven inches per hour. Snowfall expected to continue until 4:00 AM. Avoid driving, avoid leaving residences. In event of emergency, call 911 for assistance. Countywide road closures are as follows…_ **

“Well, it seems as though we are stuck here, anyway.” Loki slid his phone over the table to his companion, who read the notification and cursed colorfully. “I guess you’ll have to spend Christmas Eve away from your family.”

“Not really,” she murmured, returning his phone. “My brother is in the building. Our parents live down South, so we weren’t going to make our way down there until after the New Years.”

Loki cocked his head to the side, trying to remember if she had ever mentioned a sibling before. “Your brother?”

“Well, step-brother,” she smiled. “Heimdall, he’s Head of Security here.”

“Oh, I am aware. He doesn’t like me much,” Loki grumbled. Sif laughed.

“He doesn’t like _anyone_ much. His dad married my mom when I was six, and so I got to have the privilege of him as the ‘protective older brother’ all though my teen years.” Loki could not help but laugh at the image of stoic Heimdall looking over a young Sif’s high school boyfriends disapprovingly. “It made dating absolute _hell_.”

“I could imagine,” Loki said, attempting to stifle ensuing chuckles at Sif’s dour expression. “So what were your plans for tonight?”

“Chinese takeout and _Die Hard_ marathon.” Sif already had her cell out, and Loki assumed that she was texting her brother downstairs. “So nothing extravagant, really. You?”

“Drinking wine with Ivan.”

“Ivan?”

Loki showed her his lockscreen, the kitten’s light green eyes staring out with pure mischief. “My cat. I’ll have to text my super to feed him… she won’t mind, half the time I think she wished she had found him herself.”

“He looks like a handful.”

Loki shook his head. “You have no idea. He’s lucky he keeps my feet warm at night,” he joked. Sif laughed.

“You know what? Come on.” She stood and made a beeline for the door. “We have a Christmas dinner waiting to be eaten somewhere.”

Loki followed her trailing dark hair as she wound her way down the corridors. “What do you mean?”

She turned to give him a look. “There are sixty-five floors of this building.”

“Yes,” he prompted. He did not see where she was going with this. “And?”

“That means,” she continued as she took a sharp right and shoulder-checked a door, “there are sixty-five break rooms. With an untold amount of unlabeled leftovers.” She presented the fortieth floor break room with a flourish. “I’ll let you have the honor of the first refrigerator.”

“You’re too kind,” Loki replied, but pulled open the fridge anyway. He began to pass out unmarked boxes, half of which were instantly tossed upon opening. “We have a selection of orange juice, limeade, or,” he checked the cabinets above the counter, “instant coffee for drinks.”

“As far as still-edible foodstuffs we have yellow curry from Nit Noi, some kind of roasted brussel sprouts in a non-descript Styrofoam container, and a bar of some kind of granola bullshit,” Sif reported from the table. “Next floor?”

“Yeah. Toss the granola bar.” Loki paused then turned with a finger raised. “Accounting always gets catering on Mondays.”

Sif eyes lit up. “Today’s Wednesday.”

“Want to bet that there are still enough left over for a holiday dinner?”

“Alright then.” Sif grabbed up the Styrofoam with the brussel sprouts and marched toward the elevators. “To the eighteenth, then.”

* * *

Loki sipped gratefully on his hot chocolate with a moan. His dining companion laughed openly at him, but not in any way meanly.

“You really like sweet things, don’t you?” she teased, drinking from her own mug (pilfered from the biochemists’ break room on the thirty-first, printed with _When Chemists Die They Barium_ ).

“Sweet things have their place,” Loki responded diplomatically. He took a bite of his beef goulash. “Do we have any skips left? I hate the Glee covers.”

Sif frowned in thought. “Probably. Let’s see…” she reached over to her laptop, where she had the holiday Pandora station pulled up. She clicked the next button, and the song changed. “Better?”

“Much.”

Sif settled back with her mug again, listening to the powerful chords of “Carol of the Bells.” After a few moments, she smiled a little to herself, then flicked her eyes up to meet Loki’s pale gaze. “Can I ask you a… family question?”

Loki lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Fire away.”

Her little smile grew larger. “Is your father really named ‘Odin Odinson?’” As soon as the words left her mouth, she filled the empty space with a fork full of spaghetti carbonara.

He snorted. “Yes. Father comes from Norwegian stock, you understand? A few generations ago, they standardized the names, so that family lines could be registered and traced in records. His mother and father, my grandparents, came over when they were just married, and Father was born not too long after. They wanted to use an old family name, and,” Loki laughed a little to himself, “that’s obviously exactly what they did.” He winked over the rim of his plain green mug. “Not the most creative bunch, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Doesn’t seem so, no,” Sif agreed, leaning forward. “Have any other interesting histories stored in that archive of yours?” She tapped the side of her head lightly and flashed him a smile.

Loki leaned into their shared space as well, and he allowed a sly smirk to curl his lips. “Well, you see, one time when Thor and I were children…”

* * *

 Loki flailed awake when a thick, rubber soled boot nudged him hardly then necessary in the ribs. His head missed the pillow he had pulled down from one of the sofas in reception and hit the hard floor. His groan in pain only extended when he opened his eyes to the scowling face of the Head of Security.

“The snow has stopped, and the plows have cleared the street and garage driveway. Go home.” The imposing man went on to gently shake his step-sister to wakefulness where she slept a few feet away. Her sleep-mussed hair and uncensored, wide mouth yawn struck a chord in Loki’s chest, and he felt caught between feeling like he had just witnessed a private moment and feeling like he wanted to see that sight again.

He could not bring himself to feel guilty about it, and that thought frightened him more than Heimdall did.

* * *

 “Loki, I’m glad you made it! I was worried the weather would cause some trouble. Your brother and Jane are in the living room; here, take off your jacket, we’re all family.” Frigga’s warmth enveloped him almost as soon as he entered the foyer, and she ushered him further into the house.

“Hello, Mother. Here’s the soufflé you asked me to bring.” He handed over the glass casserole dish and happily accepted the kiss on his cheek.

“My dear boy. Hurry and get comfortable, dinner’s almost ready.”

Before he could even see his brother approach, Loki was almost bowled over by the giant five year old he knew his brother to be. “Thor,” he gasped, tapping his brother on the back, “Merry Christmas. Please release me.”

“Merry Christmas, Loki,” Jane offered as she pried her husband off of the slighter man. “Thanks for going up to Thor’s office for him last night, it was nice of you.”

Loki looked to the side nervously. “About that… I completely forgot to pick up those binders.” He put on the best doe eyes he could – he had years of getting away with things with his sibling, and he knew from experience that the oaf could not resist the doe eyes – and tried to look dutifully sorrowful.

Thor brushed off his brother’s unspoken apology and moved to hand him a wine glass. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it. I looked again and realized that I’d brought them home after all,” the large man avoided meeting his brother’s eyes, but Loki recognized the secret smile playing across his brother’s lips as one he constantly saw in the mirror.

A smirk spread across his own face as he took a swallow of the red in his glass, then hummed appreciatively. Montepulciano. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, forgot to check the back of the suburban; they’re slid under the bag of dry cleaning,” Thor explained unconvincingly. He had always been a terrible liar. Loki narrowed his eyes, but let it go.

“Loki,” the short greeting drew his attention to an older gentleman, whose severe expression seemed to be permanently affixed to his face. Loki could have sworn the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees suddenly; he could not justify any other reason as to why he felt a chill run up his back. The youngest son walked forward smoothly to meet him; despite their (many, varied) conflicts in the past, the man _was_ his father, and Loki still craved what little attention he could get from him.

“Father.” They shook hands stiltedly. “Have you looked over the proposal I sent to you last week?”

Odin Odinson lifted an eyebrow. “If that’s what you call what your office put on my desk, then–”

Frigga pushed between the father and son, looping an arm around Loki to drag him into the kitchen. “No shop talk during the holidays. This is a family dinner, not a business meeting. Now Jane, how is your new intern doing?”

“Well, with Darcy prompted to a full time position, this intern – Ian, I think his name is? – is less mine, really, and more hers… not that I mind, they keep each other busy enough that I can get my work done in relative peace,” Jane joked.

Thor beamed at his mother. “The university diverted more funds into Jane’s research for the coming year. She has become one of the most advanced authority in her field.”

“That’s wonderful Jane! Are you considering taking time off with the baby in the picture now?”

“Well…”

Loki allowed the conversation to slip around him, enduring the holidays, as usual, with the help of liquid tolerance. He had taken a driver to his parent’s house that night for just that very reason, and he kept Jacobs on call for when he needed a facilitator for a quick getaway. He laughed at the appropriate times, doted on his mother, and avoided interaction with Odin. The practiced rhythm that Christmas, however, felt more strained than it had in the years previous. He took another swallow of wine, just in case that was the issue. It wasn’t, but he still enjoyed the tannins on his tongue.

“…Loki,” he snapped to attention at the mention of his name, “is determined to remain alone, so I suppose you two are the only hopes that I have at grandchildren.” He knew his mother was only teasing, but he felt obligated to defend himself.

“I am not alone,” Loki objected. A flash of bright hazel eyes and the scent of sun-warmed flowers drifted through his mind. He coughed. “I have Ivan. He is more than enough company, and he doesn’t try to cook or hog the covers,” he stated with mirth, directing the last statement at his dear sister-in-law. Jane flushed, her cheeks and neck burning in embarrassment. Thor merely laughed and dipped down to kiss his wife’s brown locks as she grumbled something in response under her breath.

Loki merely smiled, drank his wine, and pondered the reason why Sif was the first person who had come to mind.

* * *

“Sir,” Dalton announced himself, typing away at his little tablet that Loki had rarely ever seen him without, “your meeting with the directors of Frumowitz Diamonds is in five minutes. They are waiting for you in Conference Room F. Also, Mr. Stark called and demanded to know why you are making inquiries into his company’s financial background.”

Loki shuffled up his papers necessary for the Frumowitz talks and laughed a little to himself under his breath. “I just like to keep Stark on his toes. That man is entirely too easy to rile up,” he admitted. He straightened his tie and brushed past his assistant. “But tell him that Odinson Oil is looking to diversify and merely assessing the state of the weapons industry.” Dalton followed his employer out, not bothering to hide the smile on his own face.

“Yes, sir.”

“Have we been contacted by the office of the president, yet?”

“No, sir.”

“Alright. Keep me apprised, Dalton, we should be hearing back from them soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Loki had his hand on the door of the conference room and froze. The image of brown hair flowing over bent shoulders and a delicate brow furrowed in concentration filled his mind.

“Sir,” he was pulled back to the present with his assistant’s concerned voice. He turned, and he saw the documents he had unwittingly left on his desk being offered by the young man. “Your meeting,” Dalton reminded, chocolate eyes flicking to the room.

“Yes,” he took the papers gratefully. “Thank you. That’ll be all for today, I think.”

“Yes, sir.”

Loki strode into the conference room – which looked like every other one in the god-forsaken building – and greeted the elderly woman who stood at the end of the table. “Abigail, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

* * *

Loki stared at the fliers in his hands. **_Organic Italian Cuisine!_ ** The one on top announced in bold red type. In smaller green lettering below the header, it advertised, **_Great for family gatherings or a night in at home. For delivery and takeout, call…_** and a picture of fresh, hot spaghetti carbonara.

A teasing laugh filtered through the air, but, before he even turned around to check, Loki knew he was alone in the mailroom.

He locked his box and made his way to the stairs.

* * *

As promised, he did not comb his hair back for the small New Year’s party his parents put on every year. He tried vainly to organize the chaos on top of his head, but merely sighed after a half hour and shrugged into his suit jacket.

The rooftop patio of the Hilton downtown has a standing reservation every year through December 31, 2025 for the Odinson family’s annual bash. The view without a doubt provided the best seats for the downtown New Year’s fireworks and the opportunity for his parents to press flesh with esteemed members of the local government and heads of corporations from across the county.

Immediately after he arrived, Loki searched out his brother, but when he saw who he was speaking with her whirled around in the other direction.

“Oh, no you don’t,” a hand pressed to his chest, and he looked down into the scrutinizing eyes of Pepper Potts. “You have no idea how insufferable Tony has been these past couple of days! We both know that you have just been yanking his chain. Now, to make it up to me and ensure that you will, in fact, make it to the new year, you are going to turn yourself around and face what I’ve had to deal with,” she threatened with a glare. Loki swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Loki!” The man groaned, and he turned to face the furious genius stalking toward him. Thor followed behind his long-time friend, munching on a piece of bruschetta.

“Stark.”

“‘Looking to diversify,’ my ass,” Tony Stark huffed in anger. “You have no intention of getting into the business.”

“A large company such as ours always needs to keep its options open,” Loki teased. He took some champagne from a passing member of the hotel wait staff. “Ah, thank you.” Before he could raise the glass to his lips, however, the drink was lifted by his hands and downed by the smaller man in front of him. “Please,” he deadpanned, signaling to another server, “I insist.”

“ _I_ insist that you _desist_. Keep your grabby claws to yourself, you hear? No, I’ll take that,” Stark said, taking the new flute from the server and depositing the old one on the tray.

Thor coughed into his hand to disguise his laughter. “I’m sure my brother was just trying to keep you sharp,” he explained smoothly. “Isn’t that right, Loki?”

“All in good fun, Stark, truly. As a token for being such a good sport about it,” Loki continued over Tony’s indignant noises of protest, “how about a holiday in the BVI? Our family has a lovely villa there, close enough to civilization but remote enough to be,” he lifted an eyebrow, “intimate.”

Tony ceased his grumbling and flicked his gaze to where Ms. Potts had made her way over to speak with Odin. “On the grid?”

“Barely.”

“Sound system?”

“State of the art.”

“Transportation?”

“Private helipad,” Loki assured, “and an in-house computer capable enough to bring JARVIS with you if you so wished.”

Tony considered a moment, then laughed under his breath. “Alright then. And if you happen to get a small computer virus locking you out of your laptop, phone, iPad, and all other electronic devices, the debugging password is WARMACHINESUX, all caps. No hard feelings.” He clapped Loki on the shoulder good naturedly, then started making strides to where Pepper was trying to gain his attention. “Great, time to make money. I’ll see you two later. You,” he pointed to Thor, “keep Sauron here on a tight lease. _He wants everything_.”

The blond Odinson laughed and shooed away his friend before smirking at his brother. “Loki…”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Loki cut him off as he finally obtained some champagne for himself. He almost cried out in betrayal when his brother snatched it from his hands. “Thor! _Why_.”

“You’ll want to stay clearheaded tonight, I think,” he responded cryptically. “I, on the other hand, promised Jane that I would drink for two tonight. In any case…”

As the hour drew closer to midnight, Loki felt himself becoming more and more nostalgic for another cool December night with better company. He could have sworn to have seen her sequin-draped figure several times throughout the night, but each time he turned he was disappointed. Unfortunately, his brother stuck close to his side, and every time Loki would make a grab for an alcoholic beverage Thor would intercept or relieve him of his drink.

After Thor swallowed down a martini in a single gulp – the oaf did not even _like_ gin, _what the actual hell_ – Loki had had enough. “I don’t know why you _insist_ on me remaining sober tonight,” he seethed, feeling about ready to scratch off his brother’s face. “You _know_ this is the only way I can tolerate the holidays, and you won’t even let me have a _drop_ tonight!”

“Loki,” Thor soothed his brother, sounding calm and patient in the way only drunk people did, “I’m just making sure that if you need to go somewhere else tonight, you can.”

“Why, Thor,” the younger groaned, gripping his brother’s meaty shoulder in a clutch that would hurt anyone else, “would you think that I would be going _anywhere_ tonight?”

Thor turned a serene blue eye on his exasperated sibling. “Oh, Loki,” he said, “do you really not want to be somewhere else right now?”

“I–” Realization dawned, and Loki looked at his brother in a new light. Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes in pretend irritation. “You think yourself clever.”

Thor laughed and took a bite of spinach puff. “I think myself _right_.”

“You are drunk.”

“That does not make me any less right, brother!”

“No,” Loki relented with a smiled. “I suppose not. Where?”

“The department is having a party at Dogwood in Midtown.”

Loki cupped his brother’s neck. “Thank you,” he responded genuinely.

Thor pushed him away toward the elevator. “Get going, it’s thirty ‘til.”

Jacobs was waiting on the curb by the time he made it to the first floor, and Loki directed her to the pub that the oil and gas department had rented out for the night. Two blocks away, despite her (frankly insane) driving, he got out and ran, unwilling to wait for the traffic to clear up when he was just _so close_.

He pushed open Dogwood’s doors to the sight of the rowdiest New Year’s celebration he had even witnessed. He did not even know where to begin when Fandral swung by, dragging a clearly unhappy Hogun by the arm slung around his neck. “Loki! Come to mingle with the masses, I see!”

Loki really did not know how to process the sight in front of him. “Fandral, why are you wearing a woman’s – no, never mind, there’s no time for that. Have you seen–”

“End of the bar,” Hogun offered, “next to the pinball machines.”

“Thank you,” Loki rested a hand briefly on the man’s shoulder. He looked at the Odinson with half-desperate eyes.

“Help me,” he mouthed. Loki drew in an exaggerated breath, then gave him a sympathetic look.

“No can do at the moment, but I’ll return for you, does that work?”

“If you are too late,” Hogun called as Fandral yanked him away toward a group doing keg stands, “ _remember me_.”

Loki wound his way through the crowd as fast as he could, but, when he heard the entire bar begin to countdown from twenty, he redoubled his efforts to reach the back corner of the pub. He broke through the horde as a man in a sparkly gold suit screamed, “NINE,” in his ear so loudly that Loki would be surprised if he could ever hear fully ever again. Those thoughts soon scattered to the wind, however, as soon as he caught sight of the woman perched – alone – on the last barstool, swirling the now flat beer in her stein.

Her dark hair had been whipped up into messy bun, and she wore only dark jeans, burgundy button-down and a gray leather jacket, but Loki thought in that moment that she had never looked more glamorous.

He reached forward quickly and pulled her off of the stool, and he swore that her hazel eyes – wide with surprise and confusion – were undoubtedly the most breathtaking color in the world.

“Loki,” she asked with a laugh – Christ, he would do anything to listen to that laugh every day – “Why are you _panting_?”

“FOUR!"

He braced his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. “I was running.”

“In a Hugo Boss suit?”

“THREE!”

“I didn’t exactly have time to change, I was in a bit of a rush.”

“TWO!”

Despite her perplexed expression, she grabbed his tie and closed the space between them to a few inches. “Rushing to…?”

“ONE!”

“You,” he breathed and sealed their lips together. Cheers went up all around them, but they remained wrapped around each other.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

He felt her smile against his mouth, and when they broke for breath, she threw her head back and laughed. “You owe me a Danish.”

Loki grinned and folded his arms around her shoulders. “I have all year.” He pressed another kiss to her forehead and chuckled to himself. “I’m sure I’ll make it up somehow.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> All the holiday fluff and cliches ♥


End file.
